


Bluff Check

by cyrene



Series: How to Lose Friends and Alienate People [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tabletop Gaming, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Major UST, Minor Violence, What even is wrong with me, light Zutara, oh i went there, past Jetara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrene/pseuds/cyrene
Summary: Katara asks "Lee" for a favor, which is bound to end badly.Featuring fake dating, Jet, banging to the Blue Man Group, and a brief appearance by Hakoda.





	Bluff Check

**Author's Note:**

> *waves sheepishly* Ahem.
> 
> HERE I AM...  
> ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE!
> 
> No, for real, though. I'm sorry about that thing I do where I post and disappear. It's not cool. I'm working on it.

Normally, Katara loves Saturdays. Saturday is PotE day. Katara loves playing Paragons of the Elements, loves that there’s this area of her life where she can just let go and have fun, and be a stupid teenager. She loves this fantasy Katara, the waterbender who always knows what to do and is capable of saving the world with her friends, and Lee.

Today is just not a good day. For starters, on Monday she has a paper due, and two tests. Then there’s also the stupid thing she’s done, or is about to do, rather.

Suki is waving her hands. “Hey, Katara... you still with us?”

Katara snaps back to the present. “Sorry, I just spaced out for a minute. What’s going on?”

“We’re trying to sneak into this Fire Nation outpost,” Aang reminds her patiently, gesturing to the map in the middle of the table.

On the grid of its surface, Sokka has drawn the layout of the area in dry erase markers, with a few symbols here and there to signify important points in the map. Katara gives it a quick glance at the little statuettes that represent their party to remind herself where they’re positioned and why.

“Right,” she nods again. “The plans.”

“Also,” Lee adds dryly, “you just lost the right to make fun of my crappy observation skills, in game or out.”

He’s not smiling or anything -- they might encounter a real flying boar first -- but she thinks she’s starting to be able to tell when he’s joking from when he’s serious. She thinks. So she rolls her eyes at him and gives him the finger. He almost does smile then, or at least there’s a slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. Katara -- possibly because she’s just gone into shock -- gets a really, really stupid idea.

She stores it carefully in the back of her mind for later. Right now she needs to roll some dice and hope she rolls well enough to not get caught by the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom soldiers who are both roaming around this area.

Katara does well enough the rest of the game, but she’s absolutely on point afterward when she delegates the cleanup tasks so that it gives her a few minutes to talk to Lee alone.

There’s no easy way to eat humble pie, so she just comes right out with it: “I need a favor. A really... weird one.”

This profoundly embarrassing admission is followed by a long, awkward pause. Lee uses words and facial expressions like most people use pre-paid phone minutes. Sometimes, Katara really wants to slap him.

“Go on,” he finally says, calm but wary.

“I have to go run an errand, and I need someone to go with me.” She lowers her voice and adds, “Someone who can keep a secret.”

“Will we be outnumbered? Are there weapons involved? Do you already have an exit strategy?”

Nothing about his demeanor has changed. That’s bizarre, since he obviously thinks this errand going to be life-threateningly dangerous. What, exactly, does he think she’s about to ask him to do?!

“What the hell, Lee?!” she sputters. “No, no, nothing like that! It’s just... I have to go pick up something from... from... this guy I know, okay? And I thought it would be better if I brought someone with me because...” She shakes her head with a groan. “Never mind. This is stupid.”

He frowns. “Of course I’ll go with you. How dangerous is this guy?”

“Oh my -- it’s not... look, it --” she’s fumbling for words badly, so she decides to take the blunt route again. “I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend so I can win the breakup, okay?” she hisses, shooting the words out rapid-fire. “Don’t laugh, and don’t you dare tell Sokka.”

Lee stares at her for a moment then, despite her warning, bursts out laughing. Katara just stands there for a minute, blinking, because not only was this not the reaction she had hoped for, but Lee is laughing.

He looks younger when he laughs: not so weary and wary and wild. Even the scar doesn't look so bad when paired with a smile.

“Oh, I am so glad this is amusing for you,” Katara grumbles. “Never mind, okay?”

“No, no,” he protests, putting his hands up to stop her. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I just wasn’t expecting... that. I thought you needed a fucking bodyguard or something, not a... a sitcom trope or whatever.”

Aang pokes his head in. “Hey, Katara, where’s the -- what’s so funny?”

“Nothing important, Aang. I was just trying to explain the concept of being nice to people, and Lee doesn’t believe it’s a real thing. Listen, can you tell Sokka that I’m making a store run? I won’t be long, and I’ll take Lee for a bodyguard.”

“Sure!” he chirps, bounding back to the dining room, where Sokka is still presumably picking up the mess from the game.

Katara grabs her purse and heads for the door, Lee close behind her. They don’t speak again until they’re outside.

She stops walking and says, “Look, he cheated on me, okay? With a gymnast.”

Katara detests the vulnerability in her voice, and instantly wishes she could take the confession back. She can’t, so she crosses her arms over her chest and stares at her shoes, just in case Lee has any minutes left on his prepaid emotional expressions card and is capable of producing one resembling pity.

“I acted like it was no big deal the last time I talked to him, because it was six months ago, and I really needed this favor from him... but it sucked. A lot. And I just... I don’t want him to think I’m pining or whatever. I’m not,” she assures Lee, with a glare for good measure, “but that’s a lot less convincing if I have to walk in there by myself.”

“So, what kind of boyfriend am I?” he asks, his mouth twitching into a stupid grin. She’s already beginning to miss his former stinginess with expression. “Lemme guess: bad boy with a heart of gold?” he gestures to his motorcycle.

Katara raises her eyebrows and purses her lips as she gives Lee a highly exaggerated once-over. He’s got the black leather jacket, worn dark jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and the boots he wears to ride his bike. She also happens to know that he has at least one tattoo.

He’ll do.

“Think you can fake the ‘heart of gold’ part convincingly?”

In lieu of any verbal response, he makes a sweeping bow, hand held out to help her onto the bike. Katara rolls her eyes and climbs on by herself. Lee rolls his eyes right back at her and shoves a helmet into her hands.

“You wear this,” he tells her, handing his backpack over next, “and hold on tight.”

  
***

  
Jet has a run-down apartment in a really bad part of town, and he shares it with an indeterminate, fluctuating number of his friends. They’re a waste of potential, all of them: a bunch of brilliant high school dropouts who make their money doing illegal things with computers. Katara never wanted to know exactly what things, because plausible deniability is a good thing, even with bad-boy boyfriends whose eyes are, like, totally smoldering.

Especially with those, perhaps.

The tall one who never talks -- Katara can’t remember his name -- answers the door a good two minutes after she knocks the second time. He stops gnawing on a Hot Pocket long enough to raise his eyebrows at her.

Katara crosses her arms over her chest and scowls. “It’s business,” she informs him. “Jet knows I’m coming.”

He shrugs and lets them in, gesturing back to Jet’s room like the apartment is actually big enough to get lost in, or like Katara doesn’t remember the way.

“What the fuck,” Lee mutters, low, next to her ear, and Katara’s face heats up. He doesn’t add anything to the statement, but she knows what he means. She even sees his point.

The apartment is a health hazard. There are so many computers and electronic devices scattered around that they probably don’t have to pay for heat in the winter. Overflowing boxes of parts are placed randomly around like tacky decorations.

If that weren’t bad enough, the place is covered with the cumulative detritus of a pack of irresponsible teenagers living on their own: old pizza boxes, empty soda cans, half-full chip bags, dirty clothes... it’s disgusting. On more than one occasion, back when coming here was a thing she did frequently, Katara had choked down offers to teach them how to clean. Usually while she was pretending not to see a roach or a mouse.

Katara listens carefully at Jet’s door for a moment. When she’s positive she doesn’t hear any sex-type noises, she knocks and announces herself before walking right in.

Jet is sitting at the computer, per usual, with one long leg stretched out underneath his desk and the other foot on his chair, resting his chin on his knee. His eyes flicker over to where Katara and Lee stand in the doorway, then back to his screens, where he clacks at the keyboard for another minute or two before standing.

“What’s new, Pussy-Kat?” he asks with his usual lazy grin.

Katara hears Lee snort very close behind her, but ignores it in favor of keeping her voice light and uncaring. “Oh, not much. We’re just dropping by to pick up that thing I asked you to get for me.”

Jet slips his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “Yeah, okay,” he scoffs. “Does your buddy the undercover cop need anything while you’re here?”

Lee snorts again. Katara rolls her eyes. “Oh, give me a break, Jet. He doesn’t even remotely look like a police officer. He’s my... boyfriend, if you must know.” Oh, crap, now she’s committed. Katara grits her teeth and forges ahead. “Lee, Jet; Jet, Lee. Everyone happy now?”

She turns to glance at Lee, just in time to see him give the room a haughty, appraising look. When Lee turns that look on Jet, Katara almost expects her ex to spontaneously combust and burst into flames. It’s a look that clearly defines which party is superior, and which belongs amongst the empty pizza boxes and roaches.

The word “peasant” comes to mind, and Katara has to bite her lip to keep from giggling because she can hear just how it would sound in Lee’s low, condescending voice.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jet mutters, turning away to pull a thick manila envelope out from under the mattress on his floor. Katara notices with distaste that he has no sheets on it, and wonders how she was ever seriously this stupid.

Lee takes the envelope before Katara can even extend her hand, and puts it carefully into the backpack, which Katara is still wearing. The familiarity of the gesture is strange to her, but a good bit of acting on his part, especially since he casually leaves his forefinger hooked around the strap on her right shoulder, so Lee’s arm is effectively around her.

Oh, well done, Katara thinks. She has the strange urge to high-five him. Shout, “GO TEAM!” or something like that.

Instead, she -- oh-so-coolly -- reaches her right hand up and detaches his hand from the backpack, lacing her fingers through his so she’s holding his hand -- just a little, okay?! -- at her shoulder. She reaches into her purse with her other hand and pulls out her wallet.

“How much do I owe you?” Katara asks Jet coolly. The word “hyperventilating” isn’t even in her vocabulary right now.

“Not a dime, Pussy-Kat,” Jet replies to the pair of entwined hands on Katara’s shoulder. “Anything for my favorite girl.”

“Gross,” Lee says, “you actually let him call you that?”

When Katara turns her head to look at him, she can see the disdain on his face is real. This is not part of the game. Just like that, she can see how stupid she’s being.

“No,” she replies, decisive and firm, “no, I do not. Thanks for the favor, Jet, but that’s not cute any more. I’ll see you around, okay?”

She turns on her heel and saunters out, taking it in stride when she realizes she’s still holding Lee’s hand and is basically dragging him behind her like a dog on a leash.

Well, maybe she panics a little and her hand spasms. Lee seems to think it’s some kind of request for emotional validation, and gives her hand a reassuring (AWKWARD) squeeze back. It is kind of comforting, though, in a really weird (AWKWARD) way, so she holds on tight and doesn’t let go until they’re down the stairs and in front of his bike again.

The moon is rising, full and bright. Katara feels like it’s a metaphor for her, or something, but she’s too giddy to refine the particulars.

“So,” Lee asks, “did you win the break-up?”

“Psh. I always win.”

Katara grins and holds up her hand, palm out. Lee isn’t exactly smiling back, but he doesn’t leave her hanging.

  
***

  
They stop to tank up the bike at the first station they come to on the way home, and that is the biggest mistake of the night, even bigger than earlier that same day when they were in the Fire Nation outpost tower and turned down a corridor right into a group of soldiers.

"Gimme your purse" is the man's first request, waving the knife in Katara's direction. She doesn't even get the chance to decide what to do to get out of this safely before Lee is on the guy. They tussle on the ground for a minute and, when they break apart, Lee has the upper hand.

"Run," he says to the man, aiming a pistol at his head. "Run now, and we'll forget this happened."

He runs. scrambling over the sidewalk until he can run upright.

Lee turns back to Katara. "Are you all right?" he asks, all casual.

"A gun?" Katara rasps. "What the fuck are you doing with a gun, Lee?" By the end of the sentence her voice is practically a shriek.

He looks confused. "Just there, I was saving your life. Now, come on, let's get out of here before something else comes along."

They jump back on the bike, and there is no way to talk for a while, though it doesn't stop Katara from formulating arguments, especially when she notices that Lee is taking a roundabout way back, as though someone might follow them.

Katara says nothing the entire ride. She says nothing as he walked her to the door, nothing as they walk inside and sit down at the kitchen table.

In fact, the first thing she says ends up being, "Ugh, Blue Man Group."

"What's wrong with Blue Man Group?" he asks, tapping his finger along with the beat.

"Nothing in theory. In practice, Sokka always blares Blue Man Group while he and Suki are having... alone time. He thinks he's being subtle, but --" Katara grabs his arm, looking at the cut on his chest. "oh, you're bleeding! Let me see."

He tries to pry his arm loose from her grip. "It's --"

"Don't you dare say 'it's nothing' because, I hate to break it to you, but you're going to need stitches."

"No hospitals," he replies firmly, and Katara glares at him in disbelief.

"Well, lucky for you, I happened to have a suture kit."

He pauses, raises an eyebrow. "'Happen to?'"

Katara shrugs. "I wanted to practice."

"Well that explains the box in your fridge labeled 'fetal pig'. I thought you were just hiding the good ice cream from Sokka."

Katara laughs. "Oh, I am! But don't worry, I pretty much know what I'm doing with this. Here, take off your shirt."

He hesitates, which she doesn't understand at first, but then his face sets in a totally blank expression as he pulls the black t-shirt over his head, and Katara understands.

He has... scars.

Her mouth is a thin line of disapproval as she looks down at her hands, readying the curved needle.

“Look, I know you won’t tell me what happened here, because that would involve stuff like trusting people and sharing feelings that aren’t anger and stuff. But, if you ever get a wild hair up your ass and decide to emote, I’d totally listen to whatever you have to say."

"There's nothing to say," he shrugs. "You know what kind of place I came here from." It's the first time he's admitted it to her -- that they've met before -- and he inhales sharply as her needle goes into his flesh.

"Somehow, I don't think I do," she murmurs, pulling the thread.

They don't say anything more until she is finished, both grateful to allow Katara to concentrate on practicing medicine without a license.

"There," she sighs finally. "Good as new."

"Thank you," he replies, pulling his shirt back on.

"Lee?"

He looks up at her.

"What -- uh --"

Their faces are so freaking close that for a moment Katara wonders if he's going to kiss her. Hell, she wonders if she's going to kiss him, and that brings on a whole weird train of thought where she is simultaneously imagining that her eyes close as she is brushing her lips across his gently, so gently, you have to be gentle to gain his trust first -- and wondering where the hell that thought is coming from.

That moment -- the moment when it's time to decide once and for all if this is going to happen -- the moment where they look into each others' eyes and both know it is a possibility --

That moment, Katara's father comes home, opening the front door with a bang and a cheerfully shouted greeting to his two children.


End file.
